Blood Of The Bat
by FanWriterWV
Summary: The Dark Knight's worst fear is finally realized.


BLOOD OF THE BAT

Day Ten

8:30 PM EST

Dear Clark: I'm getting this down on the digital recorder because I know I don't have much time, and I want to make sure that you and the rest of the League get this. I know that you'll have to do something soon, so I'm making this last entry for your private files. For the record, I just want you to know that you've been a good friend. You shouldn't feel guilty about what's going to happen.

I remember when it began-that night I found the previously unknown section of the Cave. It's really a cavern-it stretches for miles underneath Wayne Manor; probably the reason why my ancestors built the mansion there in the first place. Some of them hid there during the revolutionary War, others used it to help slaves escape to Canada during the Civil War. It's always been a refuge, for them, for me-and, as I found out, for other things.

One of those other things, of course, was the bat that bit me after I first entered that long passage. I must have been the first living thing aside from others of its kind that it had ever seen. I knew it wasn't like the other bats in the cavern when it attacked. None of the others had ever done that. It got me right in the neck, which should have been the first clue as to exactly what kind of a bat it was. But I didn't think anything of it at the time, after I sealed off the passage and tended to the wound with my medical equipment. It wasn't until after I took a blood sample that I first saw…

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The first few nights after the attack were normal. I went out on patrol, there were a couple of cases involving Killer Croc and the Penguin that Jim wanted me to look into. They were both hiding out in one of the abandoned sewers underneath Old Crime Ally, so I went down there to get them. I remember the arrogant confidence that Croc had when he bared his teeth at me, charging at me like the half-animal that he was. I also remember how surprised we both were at how quickly I was able to subdue him. I put it up to adrenalin rush, but both he and the Penguin-who I found cowering in a corner-called it unnatural.

That was when I first began to suspect. When I took the blood sample, I became more convinced that something was going on inside of me, that my body was going through metabolic and physiological changes. I began to become allergic to sunlight; I developed strong thirst and hunger-first just for regular meat, which Alfred would comment on when he served me dinner. I've always been a night person by nature, but now I preferred it almost exclusively to the daylight.

I went up to the Watchtower then, to have J'onn look me over. He noted the abnormalities in my bloodstream; the increased albinism in my skin and eyes, my unusual appetite. As you'll recall, he wanted to run more tests, but I was confident in finding a solution. After all, I was a scientist, and I was sure I had the resources in the Cave to deal with whatever was happening to me. Maybe I was in denial, by treating it like an infection. I know better, now-which is of small comfort, of course.

You know the rest-most of it, anyway. How I would go out on patrol and stay out of touch with the League, how various wanted felons and gang members would suddenly turn up dead, drained of their blood. That was when Tim came to me, and Dick, and finally Barbara. They knew I was feeding, and they tried to stop me-but they were trying to stop me as Bruce Wayne, not as what I had become.

I suppose my reason must have left me not long afterward, because the rest is a blur. I remember the night that Arkham burned, with the rest of my old enemies inside, including the clown, who laughed when he said that now I must know what it's like to be a monster. His blood flowed freely that night while his body was consumed by the flames.

I was a wanted criminal myself by that time. The GCPD went all out to stop me, using weapons normally reserved for riots, or metahuman threats. Jim was the last to try and reason with me, but then he was gone, too. I don't remember actually feeding on him, only the image of his drained body lying on the floor of his office, his service weapon in one hand and a crucifix in the other. The crucifix must have driven some sort of rage in me, because I went on my last rampage after that.

I made my way back to the Cave. Alfred was there, waiting for me. He tried to drive a wooden stake through my chest. I could tell that he didn't want to do it, so I spared him the agony of having to kill me by decapitating him with my now inhuman strength. That was what brought me back to my current state of sanity-what's left of it, anyway-and why I'm making this recording now, before it's gone forever. I've implanted a GPS tracker underneath my skin so that you can follow me. I may or may not recognize you when you see me, but don't take it personally. It's simply the nature of the beast.

The hunger is beginning again. I can hear the blood of others calling in my veins. I have to go now. Goodbye, old friend, and good lu—

_At this point the remainder of the recording becomes unintelligible. Fragments recovered from the computers in the Bat Cave-which was buried underneath the rubble of a controlled explosion which destroyed Wayne Manor the night the recordings were made- suggest that what had once been Bruce Wayne was still attempting to describe what was happening, but by then he had lost the ability to speak coherently. Official records obtained from the Gotham City Police Department indicate that Bruce Wayne, AKA Batman, died at midnight at Superman's hands._

_His grave site is unknown._


End file.
